Letter from Espargal: 19 of 2012

It’s Friday again and the wind that has driven us to distraction all week is is rattling the shutters. Fridays are different. On Friday the syndicate bets on the Euromillions lottery. We wake up potential millionaires and we retire poorer than we rose. But experience has not served to extinguish hope.

THE GARDENER
Sometimes I talk to Jones about how a (vanishingly unlikely) big win would affect our lives. The answer is hardly at all. I can't think what we'd splash out on. The irony is that so many winners are driven from their homes and communities by the ensuing hue and cry, to seek comfortable anonymity elsewhere.

We noted with interest recent comments by Sue Townsend, the author who grew rich on Adrian Mole's Diary. She confesses that she struggled to come to terms with her subsequent fame. As to her wealth, she found that people resented it both when she gave them money and when she didn’t.

Speaking of which, it’s been an expensive month – and not just the credit card bills rolling in from our May holiday. June brings car tax, car insurance and car service charges, along with the unholy costs of getting our animals vaccinated/spayed.

Barri, to our delight, took barely 24 hours to recover from her operation, renewing her growly mock fights with (half-brother) Russ and effortlessly leaping the fence into the park. After a morning walk, Jonesy secured Russ and Mary while I took the electric clippers to them, shaving off great wads of hair. Both are long-haired and really suffer in the heat.

WATER BOTTLES - MID-WALK REFRESHMENT

Our good turn for the year was to pay for the spaying of a Barri’s mother, Maggie, a neighbour’s bitch, who was forever falling pregnant. The operation was in our own interests. Three of her offspring have come our way and, much as we love them, we can’t handle any more.

ANOTHER JONES SKY

Monday brought the last English classes of the year. These normally last an hour – from 15.00 to 16.00. But I’ve been starting at 14.00 for a while to compensate for those missed during our travels. We troop downstairs midway for refreshments at the coffee shop across the road, flinging open the classroom windows for air as we leave.

FROM MY CLASS

Our classroom is small and lacks air conditioning, which is a bind in the hot months when we have to choose between being stifled or drowned out (by the traffic outside or the class next door).

Tuesday we accompanied Maggie and her owner to the vet, as mentioned.

Wednesday we ran around. First stop was the Social Security offices where I had to settle long outstanding fines amounting to two euros something for the late online payment of Natasha’s monthly social security. Employers of domestic labour are obliged to pay this tax between the 10th and the 20th of the following month. I didn’t even know about the fines until the accountant traced them; they went back several years.

In the afternoon, I had a rare bit of luck. I was due to have minor surgery this coming week at a hospital in Faro for a long-standing ailment. The operation had been booked in April but the condition had improved in the interim to the degree that the surgeon – who saw me without an appointment - thought the operation unnecessary. I thanked him and fled. There are times when you don't want a second opinion.

That evening I celebrated with a large whisky, my first drink since I set about losing some weight. It didn’t taste as good as I expected. And, having set my course, I haven’t missed the daily beers nor wine with supper. As to any progress, it’s hard to know. It’s too early to take any comfort from the scales.

The BBC has just launched a new series entitled: The Men who Made us Fat. To my regret I missed the programme last night (although I hope to be able to view it in due course on the BBC iPlayer, to which I’ve just subscribed). I was fascinated to read The Guardian’s review, which starts by informing us that Britons are typically 40 pounds heavier than they were 50 years ago – and why! It’s worth a read.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2012/jun/11/why-our-food-is-making-us-fat

DOG GAMES

Still on iPad, I’ve downloaded half a dozen books – so quick and easy – that I’m gradually making my way through. It's brilliant just to reach down beside the bed during a night-time waking hour and pick up the self-illuminating iPad for a read that disturbs neither my wife nor my dog.

Natasha spent all of Wednesday here doing the windows before returning on Thursday afternoon to clean downstairs as usual. Next week is her last until August, when she returns from holiday in Russia. I spent some time online with her, searching for the cheapest flights and dates.

It’s a tribute to her discipline and house-keeping skills that for the second year running she’s found the resources to take herself and her son home. The journey starts at Loule bus station at 01.00 – thence via Lisbon and Madrid to Moscow. We tried to check her in online but discovered that Iberia permits this for just the 24 hours prior to departure.

SEEN AT THE HARDWARE STORE - GUESS WHAT FOR!

Friday we stopped off at the Coral for coffee and toast before making a grocery and hardware run. Celso and Brigitte have just relaunched their dishes of the day, a fact that they are anxious to bring to the attention of all concerned. All concerned, please note. Your custom will be appreciated.

I haven't mentioned the long hours that Jones has continued to lavish on her garden, nor mine with either the strimmer or the spray. But it's these, as ever, that have taken up most of our week. Also, the Euro 2012 football championships have occupied rather a lot of my evenings.



The Portuguese flag flies proudly from our upstairs patio but the team will have to improve on its performance if it hopes to go through to the quarter-finals. As I type, England and Sweden are 2-2 and my nerves are frayed.